


A Fork in the Road

by egossweetheart



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Fantasy AU, Homestuck - Freeform, Karkat Vantas - Freeform, M/M, Mercenary Karkat, Violence, War, Weird mix of fairytale fantasy and Gritty fantasy, dave strider - Freeform, davekat - Freeform, fantasystuck, prince dave
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-08-26 08:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16677985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egossweetheart/pseuds/egossweetheart
Summary: Prince Dave Strider finds himself fucked over by diplomacy when his father tells him to marry a princess in the neighboring country. Problem is, the tension between the two kingdoms leaves them with very few options, travel wise. Enter Karkat Vantas.Otherwise titled: Two idiots go on a fantasy road trip.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> this used to be a fanadventure! but i got tired of drawing. so. now its a fic. check it out here: https://mspfa.com/?s=22466&p=1

There’s a kingdom carved within the mountains. Each formation rises and falls like a dramatic tapestry, close to the sky and twisting the wind around their mighty peaks. Towards the tops of these mountains, a natural reservoir scoops into the mountain, giving life to an area otherwise inhospitable. Next to this reservoir lies a castle. Carved out of the mountain and shooting up in sharp, jagged spikes, the whole thing remains as dark, cold, and solid as surrounding area. This is the kingdom of Derse.

The castle is said to have existed for thousands of years, with the large stores of precious gems and oils creating one of the most prosperous nations on the continent. With the perched nature of this capitol, their security is assured, and as such retains the militaristic superiority they covet.

The climate is cold and miserable, and if you ask any neighboring country, so are the people, getting more distant and unfriendly the closer you get to the castle. Inside the stone walls of the castle, court remains a tenuous and two faced environment. Each conversation retains at least two meanings, and each member strives to be seen as the more calm and aloof of the bunch.

The royal family strives to be unflappable figureheads of calm collectivity, seeing their example as the one thing separating the country from going to ruin under paranoia and distrust.

That isn’t the only way to run things, however, and a decidedly newer kingdom strives to prove that.

Near a large lake, surrounded by lush field of golden wheat, high rounded towers and open terraces, a relatively new land thrives. The sun bounces of each golden wall, catching the colorful fabrics and stained glass windows the castle seems to swell with. Each hall is bright and beautiful, every garden lush and precious. Like wealth oozes from its walls, the surrounding area lives in vast prosperity, an open, cheerful environment where each citizen seems more content than the last, and no one remembers the last time famine struck. This is prospit, and it runs on optimism.

The kingdom was brought here by a charismatic king, leading his people through desert after untameable jungle. When he settled, he made a promise that each citizen would maintain their share of the land, and with each passing century, the kingdom has only known more prosperity.

The royal family has kept on with this tradition, keeping a positive and empathetic view towards issues of the people. Trades are done with familiarity towards their partners, and peasant visitors of the throne room are as honored as foreign diplomats. They try to maintain a fair and respectful rule, and are largely successful.

 

Prospit and Derse had been living with each other for centuries, with a polite distance and some thin trade agreements. They were never quite content dealing with one another, seeing the other country as culturally inferior. There was a constant, low humming tension between them, with mutual disdain and bias towards the other’s cultures and methodology.

But one fateful year, something changed.

Fifty years ago, a new country claimed sovereignty, springing up from seemingly nowhere. Nested in the swamps below the mountain range, the city was formed out of a large and ever growing bandit society. Having been brought together under the promise of endless brutality and high profit, this country praised itself on ruthlessness. The hierarchy of its people was marked in the colorful nature of its architecture, clearly laying out where the slums slowly transitioned to its royal palace. The palace was a pointed series of towers, surrounding a larger pyramid structure. Alternia was violent, taking what it needed from the outskirts of the two thriving countries up north, and all the settlements south of their kingdoms.

Alternia reached such high potential thanks to a long line of Empresses. Each one would raise the stakes higher and higher, until the society settled into a state of superiority. The Empress would never take an Emperor, instead choosing multiple lovers. Every male child would be killed, and the females raised to be as ruthless as their mother. By the time it demanded recognition from the two northern countries, it had bred to one of the most ruthless Empresses to ever grace the Alternian throne.

Alternia presented Prospit and Derse with a gift: a reason to get along. With Alternia stealing portions of their countries with every new raid, the two wouldn’t be able to continue living as they were before. Citizens were being slaughtered, resources taken, people stolen and treated as slaves within the Empires walls. Every moment Alternia lived was a moment their people suffered.

The war started after Queen Jada’s husband died, on a diplomatic mission headed towards Derse. Quickly these countries found themselves overwhelmed. They poured over tactic after tactic with each one failing more than the last.

It seemed like hope would run out completely, until they received a letter from within the Alternian city.

This letter was sent by the leader of an Alternian lowborn rebellion. Under the rule of the Empress, a large portion of their society slowly fell out of favor until the class division became visible. The rebellion started out of this hatred for Her system.

The rebel leader depicted a detailed and discrete plan. He would help them sneak a group of soldiers into the Alternian castle to assassinate the Empress, and let soldiers into the city after to clear out any Generals.

The plan was brought into motion, and the army stormed the city. The bloodshed was insurmountable, leaving nothing but rubble and a thick stream of gore leading into the swamps. The rebels had never intended this amount of carnage.

The Empress was dead, along with the rest of Alternia.

The rebel group was lauded with praise and adulation from the people of both kingdoms. The group, feeling no pride over the slaughter of the rest of their people, faded into the background, preferring to live their lives outside of the limelight.

In the following decades, all remains of this war would fade into obscurity. Alternia became a bad dream. The leaders of Prospit and Derse responsible for the battle passed on, leaving their countries in the hands of their heirs.

The first to go was the King of Derse. King David lead way to King Richard, his brother. His brother was much younger, almost a two decade long gap between them. He was also far more petty. He reveled in the nasty nature of Dersite court, good at the sly manipulation and the cold politeness of it all. He believed in the potential of Derse, and after David died, Richard would take it upon himself to improve the Dersite army.

Queen Jada’s death rocked her country to the core. She ruled Prospit with a genuine joy, and a flair for dealing with people. She was the heart of her country, she adored it, and it adored her back.

Her heir by comparison was far more of a figurehead. King Jake was nervous, impulsive, and most of all, bored with the job. His sister Jane was the one truly running the country, but the citizens were okay to follow with the ruse as long as the state of things remained stable.

Before queen Jada died, in order to keep the peace between their countries, she had arranged a marriage between her eldest daughter, Jane, and the eldest son of the Derse Kingdom, Dirk. Dirk would visit Prospit a total of two times. Once to visit his new bride to be, and once to steal away the love of his life. While everybody had their backs turned, Dirk and Jake had managed to fall in love. Dirk promised to return one day, to steal Jake away for a life of adventure and romance. They didn’t need money, all they needed was each other.

King Richard, his father, was furious with him. Before Dirk had even left, he held a massive argument with his father, yelling about expectations and what he wanted out of life. It almost got to the point of physical battle before Roxy, the second eldest, stepped in to stop them. Dirk left the castle and never returned. King Richard disowned Dirk the moment he stepped out of the throne room.

Dirk’s second trip to Prospit was after the Queens death, when Jake had been ruling for over a year. Jake was deeply unhappy, so when Dirk snuck into the castle promising him adventure and romance, Jake was more than happy to accept. The two of them left the country, and no one has seen them since.

Jane takes charge of Prospit. She writes a letter to Richard explaining the delicate situation they reside in. She could no longer marry into the Derse family, as she was now the Ruler of her own Kingdom, and with Dave as the heir apparent, he couldn’t commit to another kingdom. Jane proposes a match between Dave, and her younger sister, Jade.

Unbeknownst to them, things won’t be nearly that simple. Not as a short, hot tempered mercenary wanders into Derse territory, looking for glory and fast cash.


	2. A Chance Encounter

Your name is David Michael Strider II, and you wish you could be anywhere else. It’s not an unusual feeling for you. Being disconnected from the people and events around you is sort of your thing. Your avoidant nature makes it very easy to dodge your responsibilities, and ignore situations you don’t want to be a part of. At least, most of the time.

Today you were caught and dragged down to the arena with the rest of your family. You hate the damn thing. It’s big, and gaudy, and nothing good happens in it. You remember spending days with your brother, getting your ass handed to you while your Father observed, disapproving. Your brother was always the favorite. _Was_ being the operative word there.

The good news is, you won’t be fighting today. Your father has decided to hold a tournament, a king of the hill style death match where the last one standing wins a hefty sum and a secret prize. Your father hasn’t told you what the prize is, which isn’t a shocker. He doesn’t tell you much. You tell yourself you’re happy about that, and avoid dwelling on it. You just sit in your uncomfortable chair slightly behind your father and hope that this is over soon. It looks like Rose has pulled out her knitting needles. That girl is way too fucking prepared for these things, always squirreling away some activity to pass the time while father dwells in bravado. It also looks like Roxy has run off to drink in the bathroom again. Man you love family time.

Your father stands up to address the crowd with mixed audio results, booing and cheering alike. Your family isn’t well loved right now, but if there’s anything Dersite’s are always game for, it’s gratuitous violence. Your father explains the game to the crowd, and ushers in the thirty competitors that will be playing tonight. Well, playing is a pretty kind word for it. Fighting to the death tends to be a little more gruesome than hopscotch. He sits back down as all the fighters turn to face each other, spread out in an even ring around the pit.

The stands are raised a good twenty feet in the air, with tapestries floating from the protective railing and barely skimming the dirt floor below. Snow starts to fall. The crowd is silent with anticipation. Your father lifts his thumb, and the fight starts.

You can’t say you love watching people fight. Obviously, you’re a respectable citizen of Derse, maybe one of the most respectable given your status, but something about watching people sever limbs and scream in agony makes your stomach churn. You witness one person pass out right at the beginning, red cape flapping as he faceplants into the dirt. A few others get cut down nearly as easily. It divulges into duels, two on three, one on two, five on one, each an intense watch. Those with harder weapons went down faster, with the straight forward moving on in simplistic ease. There’s something beautiful about it all, watching grown men glide around, trying to find weaknesses in each other, striking when it’s opportune. You’re reminded of court. Gods you fucking hate court.

In a few minutes, there are only two competitors remaining, blood soaked and turning towards one another preparing to fight. Only… wait. The guy who passed out before is getting up. He stands up, shakes his head, and takes a moment while the other two are distracted with one another. Then he makes his move. He runs straight for the two of them, pulling out a sickle half the size of his tiny, spry body. He immediately rams the hilt into the back of one man, sending him down, then kicking his head to slam it into the dirt. He uses the downed man’s back to spring into the next, using the flat of his sickle like a club, driving it home against the man’s face. Both of them are out cold.

He stands there, after not having killed a single man, still victorious. You didn’t know that was even an option. He turns, panting, and looks up at the box. He stares straight at you with his sharp grey eyes. You feel judged.

Your father stands while the crowd sits in baffled whispers.

 

* * *

 

Your name is Karkat Vantas and you have no idea what the fuck just happened. You think it’s the mountain air, maybe the immediate and brutal slaughter of the man in front of you when the fight started, but you were out like a fucking light the moment you were allowed to move.

You wake up, and there’s blood running down your cheek, sitting in a puddle left by the man next to you. You sit up. You shake your head. You gain your bearings. You can still survive this, Vantas. You’ve seen combat before. You were in a mercenary group for fucksakes. You stand up, see what needs to be done, and you do it.

The next thing you know, you’ve won. At least, you think you have. There’s a delayed reaction from the crowd, murmuring and hushed confusion. It takes a second to understand why, when you remember to check the king’s reaction. You turn around, and witness some kind of angel staring at you with veneration, hair glowing under the blue crystal lighting surrounding the king’s box. You realize it’s the prince. White hair framing a tan face, with a thin jaw and rounded cheekbones. You can’t see past his dark glasses, but you can’t imagine him having anything other than perfect eyes. He’s every bit the prince charming from the books your father read you. Your gaze lingers before dragging to the king, who has stood up from his throne.

“Your competitors are down.” The king didn’t phrase it like a question, stating his observation down to you. You nod. “But they’re not dead.”

“Doesn’t seem like it.” You wonder if you should’ve used an honorific. You’ve never talked to royalty before. “Do they have to be?”

You can’t see the top of his face, covered by sharp, black, translucent stone, but his mouth pinches into a disapproving line. “No. I suppose they don’t.”

He grips the stone guardrail like a scrawny neck and snaps his fingers. You can practically hear the tension in his leather gloves. One of his guards walks dutifully towards him. He mumbles something. You think you’re in trouble. You’re definitely going to get your head cut off.

“Ladies and Gentlemen of Derse, our victor!” He raises a voice to address the crowd, ringing out in the circular pit, emphasized by a loud, throaty horn, blaring out the sound of your success. You still don’t know if this is good or not. When the guards come into the pit, you get the distinct feeling that this isn’t over.

 

* * *

 

Well. You weren’t wrong.

This definitely isn’t good.

You sit at the royal dining table, across from the youngest daughter of the king. You’re just trying to figure out what spoon you’re supposed to use with your fucking soup. They washed you up and gave you clean clothes just to stare at you in increasingly concerning ways, and that’s with half of them having their fucking eyes covered. Princess Rose is looking at you like you’re the most interesting frog she’s ever dissected. Princess Roxanne looks like she wants to pinch your cheeks. Prince Dave keeps looking at you like you’re about to dunk his head into his soup bowl. The King has had a stone cold face of aggression since you walked in. You push soup around in the bowl with a spoon that looks way too big for it. You definitely picked the wrong spoon.

“I hope you’re enjoying the castle, Sir Vantas.” Roxy has rested her chin on the backs of her fingers, knitting them while she leans her elbows on the table. You’re pretty sure that’s bad manners.

“I’m not a knight, but yeah. It’s very… big.” You wince slightly when the word comes out of your mouth. You’re in hell.

“Yes. It has the luxury to be.” The king’s deep bass of a voice cuts in. He hasn’t touched his soup either, more occupied with staring at you. Has anyone stopped yet?

He pushes his bowl slightly to the side, and one of the servants takes it, running off through a door. He leans forward in his chair. One of his thick arms rests on the table, finger tapping out a tune of irritation. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here.”

“That’s… yes. Not that I don’t appreciate being invited.”

“We have a proposition for you.” He says it like it tastes like dirt in his mouth. Why would he offer you anything when he clearly thinks you’re intolerable? In some part of your mind, you understand how much danger you’re in. Another part hates the way he’s talking to you, and that one has the former in a headlock.

“I think I should get paid for the first job I did for you before we jump into something else, your majesty.” At least you remembered the title.

“Right.” He snaps again, this time with the audible leather squeak, and a fat bag of gold coins lands dangerously close to your soup bowl. He’s now taken up Roxies earlier position. Somehow, his is less playful, and more absolutely terrifying. You think it’s the warhelm of a crown he’s wearing. “Now, the job opportunity. I did say there was more to win, didn’t I?”

If there was a way to say that nicely, he didn’t manage to do it. You don’t respond. You know he doesn’t actually want you to.

“We need someone to deliver the prince to Prospit without being seen, and without being killed. Get him to the castle in one piece, and you can consider yourself very comfortable for the foreseeable future.”

You’re mostly baffled. Who the fuck sends their only son off on a trip with a total goddamn stranger? Especially into hostile territory? Your confusion is clearly contagious, as the rest of the people at the table also react this way, with the exception of Rose. She just looks contentious. “Are you sure you want to hire me on for this?”

“You clearly value human life, given your performance today. Let me ask you this, Vantas. Do you want to single handedly help to stop a war?” It’s a judgemental question.

“I. Yes? How-”

“You’re marrying me off?” The prince says his first sentence since you got here. You can hear the betrayal in his tone.

“Yes, because that worked _so well_ last time.” Rose sighs out her retort. Her father ignores her. You feel like that’s common between them.

“You need a queen, they want to stop a conflict. This isn’t up for debate.” You finally feel his gaze shift off of you, and onto Dave. Dave’s back tenses, curling in on himself. His expression immediately turns passive. “Do we have a deal?”

“Unless you have anything else you want to spring on me, sure. I can take your son to Prospit.” The vitriol in your voice was unintentional, but you don’t regret it when it’s out.

“Good. I want the two of you out by dawn tomorrow.” The chair scrapes on the stone floor when he moves to stand up. Everyone else at the table stands, and you follow suit. “Try not to give them damaged goods.”

When he leaves the room, a wave of relief floods through your body. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, and flop back into your chair. The rest of the royal family follow with considerably more grace.

“What a fucking charmer.” The comment tumbles out of your mouth before you can think about it.

“Do prospitian's treat all of their royalty like that? Like, for fucking real, that shit was ballsy. Read the room next time.” Dave sounds mad. It’s understandable, he just got hit with some pretty big news. You can see the little line between his eyebrows that gives away just how distressed he is.

“Prospitian's don’t kiss ass, no.” You don’t actually know if that’s true. You’ve never been to the Prospitian capitol before, and you grew up on the river border that separates the kingdoms, anyway. You’ve never been someone to take critique well, however, even if it’s not accurate. “I guess you’re about to find that out though, huh.”

Rose pulls out a book from seemingly nowhere, flipping to a page and reading from it. It’s very casual, and very disinterested. “I’m shocked you didn’t figure out this was going to happen sooner, Dave. Dirk was slated to marry Jane almost as soon as the two were born. Quite the burden to bare, heirhood.”

“No shit.” Dave slumps back in his chair, uncurling from his earlier hunch to become a boneless mass of exhaustion.

“Hey Davey, look on the bright side! You get to go on vacay to a beautiful city with tons of hot babes. Maybe you can get your smooch on before getting locked down.” Roxy waggles her shoulders when she says _smooch on_ , trying to tease him and lighten the mood at the same time. You have no idea how a personality like that survives in this place.

“I’m not going to escort him on a mission to bone down on whatever bimbo wants to become the next bastard factory, sorry.” You roll your eyes. You finally start to eat your soup. No sense wasting food, even if it’s colder now.

“You heard the man Rox, I’m going to be a blushing virgin on my wedding, just like pop’s always wanted. He did say not to bring damaged goods. Consider my carcass undented. No notches on this bedframe. Gods couldn’t ask for a better sacrifice.”

“Dave, if you could kindly stop talking about your sex life in front of our guest, I’m sure he would be very thankful. If not for him, consider it a favor to me.” She licks the back of her thumb to flip the page. Dave scoots back his chair.

“S’fine. Apparently, I gotta pack up my shit. No oblong meats falling into any wayward holes near your auditory vicinity anytime soon.”  He stands, and straightens himself out. “You guys gonna see me off or what.”

“Course we are. We wouldn’t miss it for anythin’.” Roxy sounds sad about seeing her brother go. Rose tries to be disconnected from it, not even looking up from her book. After watching her mouth twitch down, don’t think you buy her attitude.

“Sounds fair. I’ll be in my room if anyone needs me.” He starts to walk off.

It occurs to you that you should probably talk to him about where the fuck you’re going, and what your plan of action should be before you’re ejected from the castle tomorrow. You stand up, dropping your spoon. “Hold up a fucking tic. We need to talk.”

“Great. We can have a chit chat _on the way to my room_.” He points his thumbs toward the door, shifting his weight onto one foot. You grab your bag of money and follow him as he exits.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” His thumbs tuck into his belt. You take note of how purple everything is here. The walls, the clothes, even the lights are a slight blue purple thanks to the crystal covers. It makes Dave’s hair even whiter.

“We need to figure out how we’re getting to Prospit.”

“Take the north road, get on a boat, land in the harbor in like, two days, max. Easy peasy.”

“No, not _easy peasy_. That’s what people would expect you to do, Dave.” You wish you had your bag on you. You had this big map, with roads and river systems, all the towns marked out nice and bold. You notice the two of you coming up on your room’s door. You slap a hand on his chest to stop him before running off to your room to grab your shit. When you leave, map in hand, Dave is standing outside your door, looking peeved.

“If we do it right, there should be no issue.” He has his arms crossed, trying to poke holes in an argument you've barely made. 

There is an issue though. A big issue. An issue you’re definitely not telling him, as you want to keep your pride for once in your goddamn life. You hold the map out to him, pressing it out on the wall with your forearm and letting gravity do the rest. You pull out a stick of charcoal and run along the path you want to take.

“No one will expect it if we go this way. It’s the second most convenient, with no water travel whatsoever.” You turn your body towards him to appraise his reaction. He seems fairly underwhelmed.

He pulls out a little crystal pen from his pocket, uncaps it, and starts drawing his own path. Or, that’s what you thought he was doing. Instead, he draws a dick. Before he can draw another dick, you grab his hand, trying to tug it away from the paper. “What the fuck are you doing!”

“I’m fixing your map, dude.”

“Like fuck you are! You’re just scribbling all over it!”

“You were missing some land masses, I’m terrafucking the shit out of this map.”

“Maps are expensive! Do you have any concept of value or has your royal upbringing made you immune to the plights of poorer men!”

“Buy another one.”

“Rich asshole! Stop ruining this one and I won’t have to!” You’re gritting your teeth, speaking in gnarled words and effort while you try to move his hand. He’s surprisingly strong for a pampered shithead, to your absolute horror.

“I’m pretty sure this is a group project now man.”

“No it’s not!” You try to tug your map away, but by this point, Dave has also put a hand on it, keeping it on the wall. You keep smacking each other with your elbows as you struggle to keep control of the pen.

“This is a collaboration of cosmic relevance, man. The gods are basking in how crucial it is. Lemme draw another one.” He starts forming another penis on the other side of the page, on CorvidValley, and you find some inner strength to tug his hand. This leaves a particularly furious scribble all along the mountain basin. You glare at him as you finally pry the pen out of his hand.

“Great, now I have to buy a new map. This job sucks ass already.”

“So don’t take it.” He stands above you, a good six inch difference between the two of you, hand pressed against the wall with your map captive underneath it. So that was his goal. He doesn’t want to go. You clench your jaw.

“I don’t go back on my word, especially if that shit is for the greater good. Suck it up.”

Dave’s face steels into a solid wall of disapproval, moving his hand and stepping back. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

“You’d better.” You grab your map back and watch as he retreats down the hall, cape floating behind him.

You can pity his situation. You’ve never been forced to fall in love before, but you have spent a lot of time reading about heart ache. Royalty can be such tragic figures. Duty over everything, continuing the family line. That's just how it is for important figures. You remind yourself why you’re so far from home. You enter your room and get ready for tomorrow.


	3. Caught in a Web

Your name is Dave Strider, and you don’t want to go. You think that’s pretty obvious, you don’t hide your emotions as well as some of the people around here, but apparently, people are choosing to ignore your blatant opinions like they’re a tiny hole in a shirt. You can tell there’s polite disdain about it, and it’s an obvious faux pas, but no one is commenting on it to keep the civil tone in the room steady. You stand, in clothes as simple as you can find (It was hard, you’re a fucking prince) and wait for Karkat to finish getting his cape tied properly. You think your fur cloak is fine, and no one’s commented about your shirt yet, so you think if you cover it up with your cloak you should be okay.

Karkat takes one look at you and what you’re wearing for the journey and rolls his eyes. “You don’t have anything better? Something less robbable?”

“Lemme go back and check my room, I might’ve missed my beggars clothes somewhere in the ass end of my closet.” You’re still wearing your shades, the two thin crystal slabs covering any eye movement you might’ve had. He’s completely in the dark about what a devastating look you’ve thrown him. Poor guy.

“Dave, did you remember your gold? What about your royal seal? You need that shit to prove you’re you, honey, you can’t _not_ bring it.” Roxy takes your shoulder with one hand, giving you a nervous, motherly look. You haven’t seen her this stressed out about you since you and Dirk were still dueling weekly.

“I’m not a baby, I remembered all my shit. I’m gonna be okay, okay?”

“We’re not turning around if you forget something. This walk is at least a week and a half, and if we have to go longer I’m literally going to hoist myself off the nearest sheer face of this fucking mountain.” Karkat finally adjusts his cape properly, sending you a thick side eye while he tosses his bag over his shoulder, followed by his sickle.

“Remind me to forget something then.” You glare at Karkat. Can he not read the room? Fucking Prospitians.

Roxy’s lip wobbles painfully. Hugging isn’t exactly permissible in Derse, or any other kind of physical contact, really. But you notice how she’s tensing in the arms and you hold yours out for her to enter. She zips into them, wrapping you in a tight bear hug that threatens to suffocate you through sheer sibling love. “I’m gonna miss the shit outta you. Don’t grow up too much while you’re there, ok? I don’t wanna be left outta any hot goss.”

You can hear the tears in her voice. If you were any less conditioned against this, against emotions in general, you might start crying too. Instead, your chin dimples while you hold yourself in. You accept the hug with your own melancholy fervor. “You know I’ll send a crow as soon as I can, yeah? You’ll be the first to know about my mistresses, promise.”

Roxy laughs in a way that shatters your heart.

You look over her shoulder at Rose, who looks both deeply upset and absolutely enraged. She always understood more about all of this than you. On some level, you think she’d be a better ruler, too. Any of your siblings would. Unfortunately, Dirk decided to follow his dreams to have buttsex with the rightful king of your rival kingdom, and Derse doesn’t let women rule. It’s just one of the many ways Derse differentiates from Prospit, you guess. The female exclusion, not the buttsex. Your kingdom is far more subtle about that. Either way, Rose always has a million thoughts, and it looks like several of them right now are injustice based. The two of you lock eyes. She can always find your eyes underneath your shades, and you think it might be a twin thing.

“Be careful, Dave.”

Roxy pulls out of your hug just in time for Rose to move in. She’s much less dramatic about it. The hug is subtle, grounded, and meaningful, just like most of the things Rose does. Her chin rests on your shoulder, painted lips moving as minutely as physically possible. “Don’t trust anyone. Not until you get home. Not until you see me or Roxy. Understand?”

You nod slightly, knowing she would have felt the shift. She removes herself. You’re entering enemy territory with an unknown and untrustable partner. You have no idea if he’s even on your side. You don’t know if the Prospitians have ulterior motives. You don’t know if your father can be trusted with your sisters. You don’t know if he can be trusted at all, honestly.

The three remaining Derse children stand, kindred, knowing that all you have is each other, and knowing that things are far from over. You hope you see them again. Your heart yanks into the floor thinking about the alternative. You grip the handle of your bag with a white knuckled grasp. Rose fixes your cloak for you.

Karkat politely clears his throat. At least he had the decent sense to let the three of you have your moment. For once, he has some fucking tact. “Are you good to go now? The sun is almost all the way up.”

“Yeah.” You give them one last look, stiffening your jaw. “We should get going.”

You and Karkat exit the main castle, into the courtyard. You walk towards the main gate before Karkat tugs you back by the forearm. “Where’s the side door? There’s always an alternative exit.”

You can appreciate the level of paranoia, but the physical contact is really harshing your sadness vibes. You tug your arm away and start walking to the stable door. He follows along.

When you finally get out of the castle and past the stables, you feel another sharp tremor of anxiety. You’ve never gone this far from the castle before, not without a carriage and not without family. Karkat takes one look at you, pats your shoulder, and keeps walking. You can’t do anything but walk behind him.

You’ve never looked at Derse very closely before. Mostly two story buildings, made of stone and darkened wood, windows of thin crystal and curved metallic designs. You come up on the town square, and tug Karkat back. It looks like some citizens have collected in the square before work. Karkat looks on with interest. This is never good. You keep a hand on his cape.

You both have come across a rally. One of the city guard is trying to shoo everyone off the streets, but one impassioned miner is trying to talk to people about democracy. Karkat shakes his head. He walks back and around, taking you with him. You come out on the other side of the town square, hearing the commotion become louder as people start to chant about a thief king.

“What the fuck was that about?” Karkat continues down a different path, this time clearly headed for the main road.

“The king just raised taxes for the third time this year, and the conscription quota. People don’t like it when you force them to give you more money while getting rid of all the able bodied young men.”

“Only men?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

“Because girls are terrifying, Dave, and they make ruthless fighters. It would solve a lot of the conscription problems, too.”

“I’ll submit that to my dad right away, man. Just as soon as I tell him I don’t want to do this.” You can tell that the answer doesn’t sit well with Karkat. He keeps going regardless, and you pull your hood a little tighter across your head. 

Your journey is pretty quiet for the next few hours. Karkat walks like he’s trying to destroy the stone road under his feet as casually as possible, and failing. It’s kind of funny. The road down the mountain is mostly barren, with a few spare trees and the sound of rushing water off in the near distance. The entire thing winds, moving closer and farther from the river as it moves. Every bit of water on these mountains comes from your families reservoir, and in turn, every bit of land from hear to the large valley river is your responsibility. You don’t like to think about it. Instead, you think about your guide, and how unenchanted he looks by the scenery. You guess you don’t look thrilled either, but it’s different for you. You have standards to uphold, and he’s just... some guy. 

Some guy who seems to know his shit, but still. If he “knows his shit”, why are you taking the main road? You have to take pause. Damn. Your brain makes a good point. He doesn’t want to use the entrance gate, but he’ll walk down the middle of this heavily trafficked path like it’s nothing. 

“Yo, so, why are we taking the main road again?” 

“Fastest way to get where we’re going. What, do you want to go for an actual hike? Sorry to say it, your highness, but I don’t think your constitution was built for that sort of thing.” He doesn’t sound very sorry. Your mouth flattens with irritation. “Besides, there’s nothing safer than the most generic road in the country.”

“Damn, I didn’t know anything about me was being taken into account here. I guess I was fuckin’ wrong though, we’ve got a regular knight in shining armor here to take me where my heart desires with nary a speck of dirt to be seen on me. Call me shocked that you aren’t carrying me on your clearly already heavily burdened back, my liege.” 

“Are you that irritated to be spending time with the peasantry? I’ll keep this in mind the next time you whine at me to do something for you, you insufferable-”

Karkat’s eyes widen, reaching for his sickle. It’s too late. You’re tugged back by a pair of muscular arms, mouth covered by a nasty smelling rag. You struggle for a moment, long enough to see Karkat be stopped in his tracks, and you black out.

* * *

  
When you wake up again, The light of the sun is slowly sinking behind the lower mountains. You see a fire going far in front of you, surrounded by tents, with a large, open mouthed cave lingering behind you. There’s not much forest coverage here either, instead marked by a sheer cliff face about twenty feet away. And you’re mostly naked. Everything is too bright, and you hate where your life has gone. 

Shit, wait, does that mean are your shades gone too? What about your royal crest? _Fuck_ . You feel someone wriggle behind you, pressed flush with your back, and you need to take a second. Your arms are tied to someone else’s, someone shorter than you, who seems to have all of his clothes on despite the fact that you’re nippy as fuck. Nip central over here. Be careful not to poke an eye out, because these li’l bitches are weaponized. 

“Karkat?”

“Oh thank fuck you’re awake. I thought these assholes might’ve made you brain dead, and I was stuck wondering what the fuck I was going to tell the king. _Sorry sir, minor inconvenience, but your son’s a veggie, think he can still marry?_ ”

“He’d say yes. Where the fuck are we?” 

“I think we’re by Lightsummit. They at least brought us in the right direction, even if I have no idea where the main road is anymore.”

“That’s encouraging.” 

“What, like you could’ve done any fucking better if you were awake?!” 

Before you can continue your conversation, it looks like Karkat’s increasing volume has alerted your captors. Two women approach you. The tallest of the three is curvy, with blatant muscle tone and hair so matted you swear it’s intentional. She has an eyepatch and a crude arm built of precious metals, wearing a sick jacket and some equally sick boots. She might’ve been your type if you thought crazy was hot. Next to her, looking interested in the pair of you in the same way the sun might look at people during a drought, there’s a shorter woman. With a short, spiked bob and a smile that could cut glass, her look is more about color than any sort of function or style. She leans in closer with a sniff, and you notice she was never really looking at you. Her eyes are hazed over, blind. 

“Look who’s awake!” The taller one starts her introduction, voice nasally and ostentatious. She clearly revels in a captive audience. You mumble over to Karkat.

“I blame you.”

“Blame yourself, blondey! Not covering up those locks was a dumb fucking move.” The blind woman gets a little too close, leaning into your ear before you tug your shoulder up to block her, pulling away. Karkat makes a noise of surprise, clearly not expecting you to do that. He falls into you. “What’s the assessment, Mindfang?” 

“Looks like we’re dealing with royalty here, Redglare.” Vriska lifts up a small circular token, turning it between her fingers until it catches firelight. The moon carving glimmers. “No one wears imperial silver unless they’re looking to get burgled.” 

Mindfang seems pretty damn impressed with herself, when Karkat cuts through the gravitas with a snort. The snort is followed by a stream of laughter so thick, she ends up getting caught by surprise.

“...Burgled? You’re Mindfang, _The_ Mindfang,” He stops to laugh again. “And you say the word burgled _seriously_ ? Here I had everyone telling me to be scared of you. Scourge of the road! Pirate brought to land! Kind of hard to be intimidated by someone who can’t come up with a better synonym for robbed than _burgled._ ” 

He’s still laughing, and you watch the expression on her face drop. You notice the scar around her eyepatch shift underneath the stiff fabric. Ew. “Are you looking to get your ass stabbed?!”

“Of all the places to get stabbed, my ass does sound the least painful.”

“You really don’t understand your position, do you?” She walks closer to the two of you, her partner stepping back. She gets close, and by your guess, she’s in his face. You guess that’s what he gets for goading her. “The only one we need is the noble. You’re just a bonus, and if you lose your benefits? I wouldn’t hesitate to fucking butcher you.”

There’s a stretch of silence, when surprisingly, her partner speaks up again. “That’s valid, but… Don’t you want to pinch his little cheeks?”

Mindfang turns around in a shocked pivot, standing to her full height again. Her mouth is wide open, appalled. “Fuck no! Fuck fucking no! Terezi, I’m not dealing with this today, you useless bisexual!”

“Vriska, it’s an observation! I would just like to put down his adorable cheeks for consideration into the _prisoner staying alive_ casefile.” 

“Nope! This bitch is going down. I’m gonna keep his tongue on a fucking chain around my neck.” 

Vriska is pulling out her dagger when you see another bandit walking by. She looks at the scene in front of her, drops her pile of wood, and rushes over to your group, sliding in between the three of you with a dramatic skid. She’s also rather tiny, but her sleeveless shirt assures you she’s just as built as the irritated leader who was about to silence your guide.

“Wait! Don’t hurt him!” She has a strange voice, like she’s speaking into her teeth, hissing out things that don’t need to be hissed. Then she drops a fucking bombshell without asking you if you’ve got your smelling salts ready. “That’s my clawsin!” 

Her _clawsin?_ Wait. _Cousin?_ _  
_

“Shit. Hi Nepeta, it’s been a bit.” Karkat says rather timidly.

You’re shocked he has any family at all, with how lone wolf he came off before. What else don’t you know about this guy? Nepeta responds. “Apurroximately two weeks. That bar in Lightsummit is never letting us back in again.” 

What the fuck happened in Lightsummit? Karkat drinks? You hear Vriska and Terezi’s mini conference, made up of “What the fuck” and “I dunno” precisely. Nepeta stands up, only coming up to Vriska’s chest. 

“Can they stay as guests?” Nepeta asks very politely to a very impolite person. 

“No fucking way!” 

“Purrlease? I’ll do your share of the hunting for a meownth.”

Before Vriska can say no again, Terezi bumps her hand against Vriska’s arm, leaning in. “It’s not like we were going to keep them as hostages, anyway.”

You decide to pipe up for your own safety. “Do I get a say in this?”

Vriska looks at you like you’ve stepped in dogshit. Terezi’s smile is unwavering. “Silence in the hostage gallery!”

“Just untie them so we can go eat dinner already!” Nepeta adds. 

“I know! Why don’t the two of you run the fucking company. I’ll just be over here _not_ calling the shots, and totally _not_ being the one with the notoriety and charisma to keep it fucking running!” Vriska huffs. Nepeta and Terezi are silent where they stand. “Brilliant! They’re hostages. Now go throw them in the prisoners tent before I form a stress ulcer.”

* * *

 You find yourself in a shitty tent, now tied to Karkat and a support pole. This is officially the one of the worst days of your life, and you’ve had a fair fucking few. If Karkat was any kind of competent, you wouldn’t be here, naked, sitting in the dirt, and with no way to prove you’re the real deal. You decide to give Karkat a piece of your mind.

“So, I thought I should congratulate you. None of my other bodyguards have fucked up this fast before. I would clap but, my hands are tied. You can see where my issue is.” You pause for a second to hear a reaction. Karkat makes an irritated noise in this throat. “Either way I’m giving you a one out of five right now for over all care. I’ve got some notes to give you if that could help but I’m guessing you’re retiring after this?”

“Do you ever actually shut up?” You can feel him struggling against you. That’s not going to help much.

“Do you ever actually do your job?”

“If you don’t stop talking, I’m leaving without you.”

“Fucking unlikely, you’re just as tied up as I am.” 

He stands up, and as soon as the tension of his hands are gone, you’re able to stand up too.

“Why the fuck didn’t you do that earlier?” 

“Because earlier, I would’ve had to carry around an unconscious body.”

He makes a decent point, but you’re not happy about it. Thankfully you’re still wearing enough for your junk to be sufficiently covered up, but if you’re going to go, you’re going to need something else to wear. Karkat looks out the tent flaps, then motions for you to follow him.

As you move to leave the camp, you notice a pathetic string of laundry tied between two low bushes. You grab Karkat’s arm, whispering. “I need those.”

“What??” 

“Karkat, I can’t go to Prospit like this.” He looks you over, seeing your point, and nods.

“Ok. Grab them, we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

Just as he says this, Nepeta pops up from behind him again, shushing you both. “Shh! Shh!! C’mere.”

She walks backwards into another tent. You and Karkat share a glance, before he walks in. You reluctantly follow.

It looks like Nepeta has been scrounging for your stuff. Karkat’s massive sickle, your boots, Karkat’s cape, both of your bags, your shades. You immediately put them on to try and hide your disappointment in losing the rest of your shit.

“How did you find us?” Karkat asks.

“You weren’t being very subtle.” She notices you standing around, holding stolen clothing in front of you. “I’m sorry I couldn’t find efurrything. Most of your stuff was near Vwhiskers, and I’m not that good at pickpocketing yet.”

You sigh, shrugging. “I’ll figure something out. Thanks for getting what you did.”

Karkat looks shocked to see something so nice come out of your mouth. What, you can be good to total strangers, especially when they lay their necks out for you like that. It’s the kind of generosity you would only expect from your siblings, and it makes your heart pang.

“I’ll leave you two to get organized. I’ll yell something about getting out if anyone tries to get in.” Nepeta ducks underneath the tent flap. You can see part of her silhouette crouched outside, just swaying gently.

You put on your new clothes and immediately notice the difference. The fabric is much thinner, and more scratchy against your skin. If you weren’t wearing underclothes already, this would be a fucking nightmare. It’s what you have though, and you aren’t about to complain about it. Not yet, anyway. You shove the cloak on last and try to adjust yourself.

Karkat has been busy going through his bag, and while he thinks you’re still getting yourself ready, you peak. It’s got a small whetstone, some rations, some fresh food, a waterskin, a dagger with its sheathe, and a romance novel? He quickly shuts the flap on his bag, glaring at you. “Not your bag, shitlord.”

He stands up gruffly, grabs his sickle, and heads towards the front flap of the tent. What? You were just snooping. He doesn’t need to lose his mind over it. You exit with him.

Nepeta stands up and motions for the two of you to follow her. You weave in and out of tents, stopping occasionally for bandits to pass by until finally, you’re out of the camp. You had managed to nab a sword on your way out, thankfully, and focus on buckling it as Nepeta pulls you behind an outcropping of rocks to talk to Karkat.

“Lightsummit is just down this trail.” She starts. Then, earnestly, she puts her hand on his shoulder. “Karkit, you’re going to get yourself in actual trouble someday, and I’m not going to be able to save you every time. Please be safe?”

“It’s not my call.” He sees the disappointed look on her face before making an adjustment to his statement. “I promise I’ll see you soon though, okay?”

“I guess that’s fine.” You can hear her slight accent in the way she emphasizes her words. You think you can hear it in Karkat’s voice too. “Don’t forget though, okay? Beclaws if you die, I’ll find your corpse and kill it again.”

No wonder she works for bandits. Karkat laughs, gives Nepeta a hug, then turns to you. “Let’s go before anyone else finds something shiny on you.”

The two of you head into the night, walking fast to try and avoid the ire of Mindfang and her bandit crew.


End file.
